


Limits

by stardrift



Category: The Teahouse
Genre: Begging, Divergent Timelines, Dominance, Fucking, Gilder Who?, Grinding, Linneus Has a Spine, M/M, Masturbation, Possessive Behavior, Submission, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Xanthe Needs to Sort Himself Out, teasy!Linneus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:42:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardrift/pseuds/stardrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xanthe wants Linneus. Linneus wants Xanthe on his own terms. Xanthe has been acting like a manwhore. Linneus decides to stop playing fair.</p><p>Diverges from the canon timeline after page 77.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am an absolute sucker for these two, and with the comic on hiatus for the month, I thought it was a good time for a bit of speculation about how things could have gone differently.
> 
> There are some strange things about consent going on here, as there always are when you combine teasing with dom/sub dynamics. We've got a posessive, dominant Xanthe and Linneus is sort of pushing hard on his self-control without his consent. The consent is much more clear cut later in the story so sensitive folks shouldn't be too offended.

Xanthe had said his door was open to him. And then he'd called him a whore. His whore.

Linneus lay in the ornate bath in his room, eyes closed, head tilted back. The wispy ends of his candy-pink hair trailed into the hot water, fanning against his pale neck. Sweat beaded on his forehead. In the middle of summer, the room was filled with steam, and the heat made it difficult to breathe, but the way it seared his skin hurt in just the right way. His eyes were red and sore, but surrounded by such warmth, he felt less alone.

He still couldn't believe that Xanthe had said it. It was even more out of character for Xanthe than his own violent reaction had been for him. Had nearly a decade in this stalemate pushed them both to their limits? What would happen now? He couldn't bear to face his oldest and dearest friend again. The thought of taking another client, knowing that this was all Xanthe felt he was meant for, caused his throat to tighten with grief. His whore, bound to him with bonds tighter than slavery.

Time seemed to slip away as Linneus soaked in the bath, fighting back tears and trying to plan the next few days. He had so little control over his life. He'd cancelled his clients for the day, but tomorrow he'd have to go back to work, back to pretending and flirting like nothing was wrong. He was good at pretending. He understood desire, because he had been held in its grip for so long. He was a courtesan, and he had learned long ago that desire was a powerful tool to wield. 

Suddenly, his lips curved into the smallest of smiles. It spread over his features, lighting them up until his lips split into a grin and he let out a bark of laughter. He *was* Xanthe's whore. Xanthe had seen to that. For all these years, he'd been learning the art and that was going to be Xanthe's undoing. He had given Linneus all the tools needed to ensure that he had no need for Xanthe's "open door". He was going to make Xanthe come to him and beg. The thought made him sit up a little, pinkening his cheeks more than the steam ever could.

Laughing again, Linneus pulled the plug from the tub and headed over to the window. Steam billowed out and a breeze prickled over his hot, damp skin as he smiled.

\---

Xanthe was out in the garden, back bent over a stack of paperwork, pen poised as he read the same page for the sixth time. The August heat stirred something in him, as it always did, each year since he'd come of age. He'd hoped a change of workspace would ease the tense, pacing feeling within, but the flowers and trees had done nothing to abate it. He closed his eyes, temporarily permitting himself to turn his mind from the property tax assessment.

He didn't consider himself to be queer. He had a few friends, and certainly many business associates, who appreciated men in that way. But his attention had always been drawn to women. Linneus was an anomaly. The whole situation was a damned anomaly and that was unacceptable to him. Xanthe's life was one built on expectations.

It wasn't Lin's body, although - and Atros bit his lip as he thought of it - it was slim and tight and enough to make his own body tense with desire. But Linneus was also sweeter, softer and more yielding than any woman he'd ever known. When they had been children, that sweetness had stirred protective feelings in him. Now, the need to protect Linneus was still there, but it was darkened with feelings of posessiveness. Xanthe shook his head and blinked, trying to tear his mind away from the path it was so willingly headed down.

Why did he feel the need to posess Linneus? He already owned him. Surely, that was posession enough. But the ache he felt wasn't sated by legalities. He needed Linneus to belong to him completely, to take him again and again until the dark doubt in the back of his mind that knew he was unworthy of a love given so freely was silenced. After that day, when Linneus had stood before his father and chosen a life as a whore, he wondered if that doubt could ever be silenced. 

Xanthe shifted uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting his trousers. He took another breath to calm his arousal and turned back to his papers. People depended on him. He had to keep it together, or the teahouse would fall apart around him and he would lose everything.

\---

Linneus stepped out into the garden, a basket slung over his arm. His cheeks were still a bit rosy - both from the bath and from embarassment at leaving his room in such skimpy clothing. The gauzy light blue top was open in the back and barely covered his chest, the sun shining right through its transparent gathers. His shorts were cut low - so low he'd had to shave before heading out. Although as a man he could have left the teahouse without a shirt, even this little clothing felt inappropriate.

He headed out through the back of the garden, passing by Xanthe's table with its disarray of papers. He couldn't take his sun bath this close to the house, lest a client stumble across him. As he passed near Xanthe, his pale eyes flicked up and he gazed at the man through long pink lashes before turning to head through the gate and into the field. As he disappeared, his tall heels put a bit of sway into his walk and he felt the heat of Xanthe's eyes on him.

Xanthe couldn't tear his eyes away as Linneus stretched, the short top riding up and nearly exposing his nipples. Xanthe swallowed, furtively glancing down at his work before looking back to the field, unable to look away for more than a few seconds. Linneus spread out a soft blanket and set his basket down, bending over. The tiny shorts stretched over his shapely ass, showing a hint of a bulge. Xanthe's hand groped toward his lemonade and shakily brought the glass to his lips. He swallowed as Linneus squirted oil out of a bottle onto his fingers and began to massage it into his thighs.

Xanthe watched with a veiled hunger as Lin's hands skimmed over his legs, then up his thighs, until they were gleaming in the sun. He moved on to his arms, tracing their long elegant muscles. The oil left a honeyed tint on his skin. It was difficult to see from this angle, bit when Xanthe realized that Linneus was massaging the oil into his chest, he felt his own restraint slipping. He closed his eyes, imagining the expert fingers teasing Linn's nipples to hardness, pebbled against the thin fabric of his shirt.

Linneus smiled to himself, enjoying the feeling of the oil and the searing of the sun and Xanthe's gaze. He did his best not to laugh when Xanthe suddenly scrabbled at his papers. Reaching back, he began to try to apply the oil to his back as well, but the angle made it difficult to reach.

He hadn't heard Xanthe approach and he jumped when the quiet rustling of the trees was interrupted by the low rumble of his voice.

"I didn't know you sunbathed," Xanthe began, the tone of his voice a subtle apology for the harsh words they'd spoken earlier.

"One of the new clients felt my complexion was unhealthy," Linneus replied, still genuinely struggling to oil his back. He refused to turn around; he knew that if he did, his resolve would break.

"Take that off," Xanthe suddenly ordered in a growl. The sound of his voice, giving the direct order, made Linneus's breath catch and something primal spark in his brain. His back arched a little of its own accord. Blushing, he crossed his arms over his chest. "My shirt?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

Xanthe was rolling up his crisp white sleeves. "If you're determined to do this, I don't want the oil ruining that expensive silk." He had't meant it the way it sounded. He wasn't sure how he'd meant it, actually. But seeing Lin's back arch like that, he felt his pulse pound and his cock stiffen in the tight confines of his trousers. He knew he shouldn't be over here, but he'd been drawn in nonetheless.

"Remember when we used to go on picnics?" he added, trying to lighten the mood.

Linneus smiled widely. "Of course!" He slid the top down his shoulders, still covering his chest. It was such a feminine gesture, and so like Linneus, Xanthe thought as he knelt down behind him. The oil was scented and the smell of it on Linneus was divine. Xanthe tried to find a comfortable position, then gave up. Linneus passed him the lotion.

When he felt Xanthe's hands on him, Linneus couldn't stop the little sigh of want that escaped him. Xanthe had been riding without his gloves again and the rough calouses of his fingers scratched over Linneus's neck, disturbing the soft pink hairs there. The sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen drifted over the big lawn, reminding Linneus not to let himself go.

"Lie down," Xanthe ordered, voice commanding and a little more ragged than before. Linneus allowed his shirt to fall down, discarding it before stretching out on the blanket. He hadn't noticed his own need, but now his straining cock was trapped between his hips and the ground. He hadn't expected it, and a quiet mewl left him only to be smothered against the blanket.

At the sound, Xanthe felt his breath leave him in a pant, one oiled hand slipping down under his waistband to adjust his own throbbing arousal. He gritted his teeth with the effort of holding still, then permitted himself one stroke before quickly withdrawing his hand. What was he thinking?

Linneus wiggled impatiently, hips flexing against the ground. Xanthe closed his eyes, cock pulsing at the sight before he moved to settle himself until he was straddling Linneus's upper thighs. He leant forward and began to work the oil into the smaller man's pale skin.

Linneus's eyes widened when he realized that Xanthe was straddling him. The hot, tense weight of Xanthe's thighs on either side of him was enough to make him quickly close them again. Xanthe was holding back, but barely. He could feel the power in his touch, careful and tender, restrained. It would be so easy to give in now, to turn around and ask to be taken, to feel the stiff aching heat of Xanthe stroke into him again and again. He lightly bit down on his own arm, feeling the precum beginning to dampen his shorts as he leaked into them. He shifted uncomfortably, only to have his thoughts interrupted by a very real moan from Xanthe as the cleft of his ass shifted up against what he suddenly realized was Xanthe's cock.

Xanthe's arms shook, cock tenting the front of his trousers obscenely. It pulsed again, twitching against Linneus's ass. He knew he should pull away, should get up and brush the grass off himself and go back to his office and call his wife. Linneus shifted against him again and he gave a soft growl of frustration and desire. Linneus turned around, and Xanthe pulled back a little, making a pointless attempt to disguise his arousal. He avoided Linneus's eyes, ashamed to have come so close to losing control, to hurting him.

Linneus got to his feet, his long slender legs obscuring Xanthe's vision. He ran his fingers through Xanthe's hair fondly, then leant down, his lips ghosting over Xanthe's ear. When he spoke, his voice was low with arousal.

"Sort yourself out," he purred, his words like dripping honey. Xanthe's cheeks burned, and as his eyes skimmed upwards, Linneus adjusted his cock in the tight shorts. Then, with the wickedest little smile, Xanthe's whore walked back to the teahouse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of backstory speculation in this chapter, which will almost certainly not work after all of the official backstory gets released.
> 
> Things get a bit dark this chapter. There there, I'll make it up to you with the third and final.

Xanthe Atros was reaching his limit. Every day, it seemed that Linneus found a new way to torment him. It was geting so bad that Xanthe had begun locking himself away in his office, afraid that another encounter would reach the limit of his self control. He'd begun spending nights at the teahouse, unable to answer his wife's questions about his changing moods and his snappishness. He'd been sleeping in one of the spare rooms in the brothel, and was presently headed there. It was well past midnight, and the lamps had been turned down such that he was picking his way down the hall through the dark.

Passing by Linneus's room, he heard a sudden cry and, unthinking, leapt toward his door to rescue him. He managed to pause just in time, hand on the doorknob as a second noise, a low luxuriant moan of pleasure, hit him. Oh god. It was a beautiful sound, and one that went straight to his cock. Closing his eyes, he stood completely still, listening.

There was a soft rustle of sheets, followed by a creak and panting that burst into a sudden high-pitched gasp. Xanthe gripped the doorway, knuckles turning white. He'd been listening for the sound of Linneus's client, but he remembered now through the haze of arousal that Argent had informed him the last client had left before she went to bed.

Which meant that Linneus was alone.

In all likelihood, another selfish client had left him without release, leaving as soon as they'd been sated. Anger and frustration welled up in Xanthe. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He cast back through his memory to Linneus's first client. He'd been fierce then, as he was now, but it was worse than that. He'd expected to be heartbroken as he lay in bed that night, knowing what was happening downstairs. Knowing that his father was a hard man and would have given Lin to the highest bidder without regard for his safety or comfort. Knowing that Linneus was young, too young. He'd expected the rage, and the grief.

Xanthe hadn't expected the arousal. It crept up on him as he lay, exhausted after all the other emotions had run their course. The idea of Lin naked, being made to submit to a stranger, the idea of him pinned down, was too much. He'd imagined blood. He'd imagined Lin's soft boyish gasps. How could he ever forgive himself after that night, body wracked in spasms of pleasure, touching himself while his best friend was living a nightmare. He was truly a monster.

The guilt that had been suffocating then, as it was now. His desire which had abated as he thought of his betrayal was suddenly called back to attention as Linneus's moans grew more aching and insistent on the other side of the door. His hand fell from the doorframe and slid down, skimming over the hard press of his cock through his trousers. Linneus was close to coming. He reached down, unbuttoning his pants, letting the guilt ebb away with the rest of his thoughts.

Blood rushed in his ears as he stood in the hallway, shadowed against Lin's door, palming his shaft and panting along with Linneus's little whimpers. He hadn't had any release in well over a week, and he was rapidly careening toward it, biting his lip to stay silent. His breath came hard and heavy, too loud in the still space of the corridor. So close. He imagined Linneus, sprawled wantonly on the bed, knuckles deep in himself. He heard the creak of Linneus's bed, followed by his name.

"Xan!"

Xanthe's heart stopped for a moment, an eternity passing before he realized that Linneus couldn't know he was there. The thought that Linneus had been fantasizing about him finally bubbled to the surface of his lust-addled mind, and that alone was nearly enough to bring him to orgasm. There was a low, satisfied groan on the other side of the door and he bit back his own answering moan. Suddenly, there was silence. When he heard the soft sound of Linneus padding toward the door, Xanthe had just enough time to force his aching cock back into his trousers and disappear down the hall.

\---

Linneus padded into the kitchen, flushed with exertion. He poured himself a glass of white wine, sliding into the breakfast nook and sipping it while he came down from his high. He hadn't come by his own hand, outside of an engagement, for some time. To be honest, teasing Xanthe this week had kept him in a hightened state. His clients had certainly enjoyed his insatiability, but it was more difficult than ever not to let himself drift off into a fantasy. Screaming your owner's name during sex with a client was frowned upon.

He'd learned a lot about Xanthe, at least he had before Xanthe had locked himself away. His tastes weren't as he'd expected, and he responded most to some of the strangest things.

The look on his face when Linneus had served him morning tea in the house maid's uniform had been a total surprise. Seeing Xanthe's desire laid bare like that had made him want to fall on his knees. He hadn't, but just barely. There was something about Xanthe, had always been something about Xanthe, that made him want to obey. After that, he'd stopped searching for ways to sneak into Xanthe's office, knowing he couldn't trust himself alone with the man.

There'd been the time, earlier, when he wasn't even trying to seduce him. He hadn't known Xanthe was there. He was dusting the piano, leaning over and struggling to reach the very middle of the cover. Xanthe had walked past, surprising him, then stopped and turned. When Linneus had looked up, Xanthe tucked a strand of his pink hair behind his ear, then taken the dusting cloth from him and finished the job. Linneus had sat, dumbfounded, on the piano bench, eyes meeting with Xanthe's before flickering away.

That had been the only time he hadn't been in control of the situation. The other times - the time with the cherries, that one time by the pool, so many other moments - he'd had Xanthe flustered and, often as not, hard and eager. Leaving him like that each time left Linneus with a high. Smiling softly into the bottom of his wine glass, he lost himself in a daydream. It wouldn't be long now.

\---

Xanthe collapsed onto the bed in the spare room, muffing a cry as he freed his throbbing cock. He'd been stopped one too many times, and it hurt. His hips thrust frantically as he stroked himself with abandon, heavy balls slapping against his thighs. It wasn't long before he was coming, teeth gritted, painting the sheet with thick ropes of his seed.

As he lay there, eyes unfocused, body tensing with aftershocks, the tears began to flow. He rolled over, covering his face with a hand as silent sobs shook him. He couldn't protect Linneus from himself anymore. He couldn't keep up the facade. He'd failed catastrophically at what was expected of him - failed his father, failed his wife, failed his best friend.

Things were not alright, and Xanthe Atros did not have his shit under control.


End file.
